The forgotten Potter
by PotterRaver28
Summary: Desdemona Lilian Potter was forgotten about by her family in favour of her brother, Charlus James Potter, the supposed 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Making a name for herself in both Hogwarts and the Wizarding World, she advances through the years. And, when her family finally notices her, will she care? (Grey, Independent, fem Harry planned to be around a K plus rating but may change.)
1. Prologue part 1

(AN: Before you read the story I just wanted to add that as I'm British some spellings may differentiate from American ones. For example: colour and color. So, unless you're sure, please don't review to say that I've spelled a word incorrectly, although I'd be grateful for some constructive criticism. And finally, I just wanted to add that I've changed the prophecy slightly so it could apply to both sexes.)

Prologue

Part one

Many years later there would be numerous debates over whose (or what's, as suggested by the Lovegoods) fault it was. However, whether it was caused by the lack of medi-witch on duty (who had rushed off as soon as possible to help with the newest batch of injured Aurors), Lily and James Potter, their friends and family (Even though the Marauders were friends first and foremost, there was no doubt in anyone's minds that through their wizarding blood they were most likely distant cousins.), a wonky clock, or even Wrackspurts (also suggested by the Lovegoods) the result was the same.

And when, merely seconds into the first day of August, Desdemona Lilian Potter's was born at eleven fifty-nine pm July 31st 1980, a horrible mistake was made. For her birth was recorded to be a mere minute later, at twelve o' clock, a time which was then copied down by the couple next to the time of birth of her brother (Charlus James Potter) which was recorded to be eleven forty-eight pm.

Why Dumbledore had asked for a copy of the twins' time of birth was beyond the occupants of the room—but then again, Dumbledore's actions usually were. And so, later that evening, James Potter hurriedly delivered the slip of parchment to the elderly headmaster before rushing back through the floo to return to St Mungos and, more importantly, his wife and children (Who wouldn't be allowed to leave for another week although there was a possibility of a Death Eater attack.).

Despite the war, once the babies and Lily were dismissed from St Mungos, the small family had never been happier. They were still in the small flat that the young couple had bought soon after graduating but, with two young babies, the lack of space quickly went from cosy to a hassle, and they were set to move into one of the Potter family's smaller estates in a few days.

The few who knew of their location had been invited to a leaving party, though those that came left early, not wanting to risk being out at night in _these _times. Soon, all had trailed out, with the exception of one Albus Dumbledore, who was sitting on a plump armchair that James was fairly certain hadn't been there a minute ago.

"Lemon drop, James?" Dumbledore asked, having procured a bag from his robes.

"No, thank you." James said as politely as he could, while internally grimacing at the blasted confectionery. He was certain he'd been traumatized for life from the one time he'd tried the horrifically yellow concoction. James vaguely wondered if he could pin up a sign banning them on the door of the new house, but quickly dismissed the idea; knowing Dumbledore he'd ignore it, anyway.

They sat in awkward silence, waiting for Lily, James presumed. It seemed he was correct, as when his wife entered the room a few minutes later (having checked on the twins and lowered the silencing ward she'd made around the bedroom for the party) Dumbledore began to talk again.

"What I am about to tell you, you can share with no one." He began in an uncharacteristically grave voice, for once getting straight to the point. Both Potters immediately nodded, which seemed to act as a cue for the elderly headmaster, as he started casting spells, and the few that the pair recognized seemed to all involve privacy and silence in some manner.

Finally, it seemed that Dumbledore was finished, as his wand disappeared back up his sleeve and, for a moment, he appeared slightly strained.

"Earlier this year, I went to the Hog's Head pub to interview Miss Sybil Trelawney, who had applied to teach Divination. As she was a descendant of the esteemed Cassandra Trelawney, I had high hopes, but it soon became clear she was a fraud. Just as I was about to leave, she issued a prophecy:

(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have the power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"_

(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

"Albus, this is brilliant!" James near shouted, a bright grin splitting across his face.

"N—no it isn't, James," Lily said in a wavering voice, her eyes beginning to water.

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"D-don't you get it?" Lily asked incredulously, "It c-could be our baby boy—our Charlus." she managed to get out before outright sobbing, her wails piercing the air.

At that, James' face fell and, voice cracking as he spoke, asked the unspoken question. "Does He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—Does he know?"

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore started, "a spy overheard the beginning of the prophecy, and I imagine that news has reached Voldemort by now." he finished, mentally sighing in exasperation as the couple flinched at his casual use of the name.

"The other boy eligible for the prophecy, Neville Longbottom, has gone into hiding with his parents and they are now protected by the Fidelius charm. I would suggest you do the same."

"Well…I suppose we could move in to Godric's Hollow tomorrow." Lily offered hesitantly. James nodded in agreement, and she relaxed—if only slightly.

"I, of course, would offer my services as Secret Keeper if you wished." said Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Albus, for your offer but I was thinking of asking Sirius." James replied in a slightly nervous voice, afraid of offending the great wizard.

"Well…if you're sure." Dumbledore said.

"Of course," James responded, his trust in hid friend unwavering.

"I'll perform the charm as soon as possible." Lily said.

And with that conversation, the family's future was changed forever.


	2. Prologue part 2

Prologue

Part two

Voldemort swept through Godric's Hollow, his excitement at finding the Potters quickly quenched by disgust at the ridiculous muggle celebration. Halloween, he vaguely remembered.

His sneers kept the muggles away—they would part for him almost subconsciously, as though they could tell on some innate level that he was a predator and they were—most definitely—prey.

He soon reached the cottage and was unable to contain a small, malevolent smirk—although it disappeared as quickly as it came. A simple _alohomora _and he was in (still surprised that the Potters hadn't protected themselves with anything other than the Fidelius charm—but then again they were _light_ wizards; he should've predicted the stupidity.).

Revelling in the young babysitter's terrified screams (the Potters, having foolishly believed they were safe, had gone out for the night) Voldemort slowly advanced; giving her time to run up the stairs—as it was much more fun to let them believe they had a chance, of course.

Having leisurely scaled the stairs (already imagining with glee the children's eyes glassed over in death) he quickly found the nursery and grimaced at the sight of blindingly white walls, scattered baby books, and stuffed animals.

His attention was drawn back to the babysitter when she began to speak. "Not them-Please don't take them!" she cried in a tearful voice.

Voldemort barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes, having heard similar speeches many times. "You're a pureblood, step aside and I'll spare you. Join me—"

"N—never," the woman shouted. A Gryffindor, then. She wouldn't be a great loss. Drawing his wands he said the dreaded words, "Avada Kedavra!" and watched, satisfied, as the green light hit her body and she fell down, arms still spread, as though hoping to protect the twins in even death.

Turning his attention to the cribs and their occupants, he found it hard to believe that one of them would someday defeat him. One was still rather chunky with a bird-nest of red hair, and, although it was sleeping, brown eyes if Wormtail was correct. Charlus Potter, Voldemort presumed.

The other was slightly slimmer with a few curly black strands and, it would seem, its Black heritage had come through rather strongly, if the hint of high cheekbones and a strong jaw was anything to go by. Desdemona Potter, then.

Making his decision, Voldemort turned his wand on the boy—only to stop when the other baby opened its eyes. While some may say Desdemona had the eyes of her mother, to those that had often seen the killing curse it would be obvious it was not so. A shade or two darker than Lily Potter's, it was the exact same colour as the spell Voldemort had been about to cast.

Changing his mind (the boy could go second, after all) Voldemort pointed his wand at the girl's forehead, and, for the second time that evening, screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" Only to watch in horror as, for a second, a glimmering white shield surrounded the young girl and the curse rebounded at its caster.

For a what seemed like an eternity, all he could feel was agonizing pain as his body disintegrated until he was a mere wrath—less than a ghost, yet still kept from the sweet bliss that would be death if it meant an escape from this agony. The room exploded from the power of the raw magic released (setting off numerous alarms in Albus Dumbledore's office), and a heated piece of wood struck Charlus Potter's cheek, leaving behind a v—shaped scar that was slightly tainted from the influx of dark magic in the room.

And so, when what was left of the greatest Dark Lord in history fled into the night, leaving behind only his wand and a bundle of burnt robes, Albus Dumbledore would complete the first of a series of great mistakes the wizarding world made concerning Desdemona Lily Potter.

Surrounded by Aurors, a frantic Lily and James Potter, a few reporters, and Cornelius Fudge (Junior Minister of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes), he held up a small bundle and announced, "I present to you Charlus James Potter, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, and The Boy Who Lived!"

And when, all over the country (in secret, of course), witches and wizards raised their glasses to Charlus Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived', not once did they think of his twin (the real 'Vanquisher of the Dark Lord') who lay, unattended to, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks as she silently cried, a raised, lightning bolt scar just covered by her hair.


	3. Chapter 1

All rights for the Harry Potter World belong to J.K Rowling.

(An: I just wanted to add that, while Desdemona will have a really advanced vocabulary for a three year old in this chapter, that's because a) she's very intelligent and b) for the story I'm thinking of making children with magic advance slightly quicker in things such as speech and walking (although only at a young age). However, apart from that their development will be pretty much the same as normal kids. Also, please review! It would be really helpful.)

Chapter one

For two years after the attack the Potters stayed out of the public's eye (afraid for Charlus's safety due to the Death Eaters that were still being rounded up). The attack on the Longbottoms had only reinforced their desire to stay hidden but, with the public clamouring to see their saviour, they had no choice but to open the gates of Potter Manor (which they had moved into shortly after Voldemort's demise) for a communal party.

The effort it took to host it was astronomical—keeping the Potters busy months prior to the actual event. There were bands to be booked; caterers to be hired; staff to be found for the day; the list went on and on.

Lily had _meant _to buy Desdemona (or 'Des', as she was affectionately called) presents from her and James—but had been pulled away at the last minute when a group of children's entertainers (who were set to perform for an hour) called to say that they had to cancel, as nearly all of them had caught spattergroit from one other.

James _meant_ to tell the caterers to write the twins' names on the cake—but had been stopped by the decorators (who didn't have _nearly _enough Filibuster Fireworks) and forgot his previous task, leaving those icing the cake (who, unfortunately, weren't aware of the Boy Who Lived's twin sister) to decide what memo to add.

Sirius Black _meant _to buy two training brooms—but had left only with one—for Charlus—having caught sight of one of the more beautiful witches in a recently-formed band (The Weird Sisters, he recalled) hurrying past.

Remus Lupin had _meant_ to buy two presents—but barely having enough money for one (being a werewolf he'd had trouble finding work, and he refused to accept any charity from his friends) he'd decided to buy another present for Desdemona at a later date—but he never quite saved up the money.

Dumbledore had _meant _to deliver two training wands—but, after putting down one on the table set aside for presents from close friends (again, the one for Charlus), was distracted by a simply delectable platter of sweets being carried past him (the other training wand was later thrown away by the Hogwarts house-elves who found it in the pocket of the headmaster's robes).

And so, on July thirty-first 1983 (the day of the party which was, coincidentally, also the twin's birthday), most of Wizarding Britain turned up to pay their respects and deposit presents—each one more extravagant than the last. Unfortunately, the Potters having been—up until then, at least—a very private family, none of the guests were aware of Charlus Potter's younger twin sister—and only got gifts for one twin.

Due to this, by the time the party had ended Desdemona had had a thoroughly miserable day. Her parents being too busy running the party, directing Auror patrols (who would keep more _unsavoury_ characters out) and paying the various companies and performers, to say anything to her other than a hurried 'Happy birthday'; nobody seemed to know who she was, as she hadn't gotten any other congratulations; she hadn't seen either her Uncle Moony or her Uncle Padfoot all day; she assumed the part of the birthday cake with her name must've already been eaten by the time she reached it and, to top it all off, her brother hadn't even noticed her—instead, he stood in the middle of a huge crowd, who all seemed to be fawning over him for some reason.

However, once the party had ended, Desdemona soon cheered up, as she saw the dozen Potter house-elves disappearing with loud 'cracks' as they took what must've been _hundreds_ of presents inside. Running (or rather, toddling) as fast as she could to her bedroom (where her presents would be) she looked, confused, at the bare floor. Rushing outside again, she tapped the nearest house-elf (Ditzy) on the shoulder.

"What can Ditzy get Little Mistress?" asked the house-elf immediately.

"You can call me Des." Desdemona replied, but, like the house-elves had done every time before (and would probably continue to do after) Ditzy merely shook her head regretfully and said, "Ditzy can't; it would be disrespectful, Little Mistress."

"If you're sure…" Desdemona said. The house-elf immediately nodded, its huge ears flapping as it did so. Remembering what she wanted in the first place, Desdemona beamed from excitement.

"Can you take my presents up to my room, please?" Desdemona asked, with a politeness ingrained from the numerous times she and her brother had been berated for bad manners.

"Of course!" the house-elf squealed, happy to have another task.

Grinning, Desdemona returned to her bedroom but—after ten minutes—became impatient. "Ditzy," she called out. A mere moment later, the now tearful house-elf appeared.

"Ditzy is sorry! Ditzy couldn't find any presents for Little Mistress!" Ditzy cried, distraught at having failed her task.

"Are you sure?" Desdemona asked hesitantly.

"Ditzy has checked many times!" the little house-elf replied before she started to bang her head against the wall.

"Ditzy—Ditzy stop!" Desdemona cried as she gently pulled the sobbing creature from the slightly dented plaster.

"I-it's okay. You did a good job." Desdemona told the house-elf firmly. However, the minute Ditzy disappeared, Desdemona broke down in her own loud sobs until she had cried herself to sleep.

That was the first year she didn't receive any presents. 


	4. Chapter 2

Chapter two

_Three years later…_

_, _

Lily and James Potter, while not overly so, had changed over the course of three years. Though not socialites by any means, both had long since quit their jobs to devote their full attention to their young son, and could, admittedly, often be seen at various functions for the more well-off of light witches and wizards.

However, if the attention did get to their heads (although only slightly) both had perfectly respectable reasons. For Lily, to finally be accepted—no, revered, by a society that had looked down on her for her heritage for so long was rather gratifying. And as for James, well, he _had _always enjoyed popularity—in addition to his susceptibility to big-headedness, of course (however slight the affect was now he was more mature).

As for their son, well, he hadn't fared quite so well—Charlus (or rather, Charlie, as he was called by most) was worse than his father had ever been due to the fame that had been shoved upon him while he was still young and—more importantly—impressionable.

The obscene amount of gifts he still received years after the Dark Lord's defeat made sure he had both everything he could wish for and a definite disregard for money. One of the most common gifts being sweets, even the famed Potter metabolism was defeated and Charlus had maintained a rather chubby physique—or baby fat, as it was fondly referred to by most—throughout his years in the public's eye.

However, it was definitely the youngest Potter that had changed the most. Although Desdemona had retained her seemingly inherent sweet nature, she bore a rather disturbing resemblance to a young Bellatrix Black (as Sirius jokingly pointed out shortly before he seemingly forgot about her existence) with her curly black hair, heavy-lidded eyes, high cheekbones and strong jaw.

The only differences, in fact, was her lightning bolt scar (even though it was constantly hidden by her hair) and emerald green eyes, or, as Desdemona liked to call them, Avada Kedavra green eyes. Although she had no idea where _that_ reference came from, it had stuck—though she was careful not to say that around people, now that she understood exactly _what_ the curse did.

The only people who had heard Desdemona refer to them as that had been her parents—which had, unfortunately, resulted in an hour long lecture and being restricted to her room for a week (although Desdemona was fairly certain that they'd forgotten about it—and her—by the next day).

On a brighter note, that had been the first time they'd noticed her in roughly six months (the last having been when Charlus wanted her teddy bear and, of course, her parents demanded she give it to him) and (having rushed to the library immediately after despite her punishment) she figured out enough to not say it when she had company again.

The most drastic contrast, though, to Desdemona's three year old self was her intelligence which (while it had once been merely highly advanced for her age) was now definitely that of at least a prodigy.

Hoping to impress her parents, she had thrown herself into work (both magical and muggle) but, when they hadn't even reacted to her attempting to start conversations in rudimentary French, Latin, and Gaelic (other than to tell her to be quiet), she'd been devastated at them ignoring and shooting down months of hard work. After that, she worked only to please herself.

Now, hurrying down the stairs, she just caught sight of her mother (she, along with Desdemona's father, had stopped being 'Mum' and 'Dad' long ago) stepping into a—for some reason—green fire and saying, quite clearly, "Diagon Alley!"

Worried at missing the monthly trip to Diagon Alley (there were numerous books she needed to buy) Desdemona decided to risk travelling by floo (something she'd been too young for previously and had only read brief explanations of) and, hands nearly shaking with trepidation, scooped up a handful of vivid green powder from the pot on the mantelpiece and threw it into the now normally-coloured flames.

Immediately, the fire turned green and flared up and—before she could dissuade herself—Desdemona stepped into the fireplace, sighing in relief when nothing happened except for the light chill that spread across the appendages that should be burning.

"D-Diagon Alley," Desdemona said, stuttering as ash filled her lungs. Berating herself for her stupidity (one fact all the books agreed on was that you had to speak clearly, after all), she could do nothing but watch as a dizzying array of fireplaces spun in front of her until—mercifully—it stopped and she was spewed out in a flurry of ash-covered robes and hair.

Wincing as she slammed into a wall, Desdemona slowly stood up, only to meet the furious gaze of a hook-nosed, greasy haired man that was most definitely not a wall.


	5. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Severus Snape was having a good day. He was finally free of the snivelling brats he was forced to teach (Really, couldn't Dumbledore find another potions master who actually _liked_—or at least _tolerated_—children?); he had just completed a rather complex potion and, if any of the foolish whelps he was forced to put up with for a year received anonymous letters that caused rather unattractive boils to cover them for a week, he would deny any being involved in anyway; and, last but not least, he had just picked up a _highly_ volatile potions ingredient that was _definitely _not legal from a rather shady apothecary in Knockturn Alley.

His reasonably content (Severus simply didn't do happy) mood was shattered when he passed the fireplace on his way out. Suddenly green flames released an ash-coated missile directly at him that sent him sprawling. Severus could only watch in horror as his purchase slipped through his fingers and landed on the hard, unforgiving floor.

Frantically, Severus pulled the bag towards him, and sighed with relief at the miraculously undamaged vial of Acromantula venom. Then, he turned to the latest object of his ire. Face twisted in his best glare (the cause of many panic attacks amongst Hogwarts's students), he waited for the child (or at least he assumed so from the size) to look up.

When it did, Severus vaguely wondered if the Dark Lord and his second in command had had a child. A miniature Bellatrix with the exception of piercing green eyes, it was rather disturbing. And, when she barely flinched at the poisonous look directed at her (that had brought many adults to tears), Severus was impressed. Or at least he would've been—if not for her flying in to him, that is (Really what idiot can't even use the floo correctly?).

Returning to what he did best (scaring young children), Severus began his rant, "Impertinent guttersnipe, thought it'd be an _adventure_ to floo into Knockturn Alley, did you—"

"No, sir," the child said softly.

However, Severus was not to be deterred. "Insolent ignoramus, thought you were _above_ listening to simple instructions? What's your name, you dullard?" Severus asked, already imagining with glee how he would torment the child once she arrived at Hogwarts.

"Desdemona Potter, sir." Answered the young girl.

With that simple sentence, the girl sealed her fate—not that she was aware of it. And, as Severus managed what he had previously thought impossible (and increased his hatred tenfold), his tone became the oily one that he reserved for only his most hated of students (and the 'Marauders' and their spawn, of course).

"Is that so? Take after your father then, I suppose. He always had no regard for rules, either. Thought you'd just ignore your parents' warnings and travel to the alley filled with dark witches and wizards-"Severus nearly growled in irritation as the girl interrupted him…again.

"Are you a dark wizard, then?" the girl asked curiously.

"I suppose that's what your father told you. Beware of Severus Snape-"

"_You're _Severus Snape! The youngest recorded Potions Master in history!" the girl (Desdemona, he recalled) practically squealed.

Slightly surprised (miracles must happen if Potter's spawn had opened a book), Severus decided that Lily must've had _some_ part—however small—in her daughter's upbringing. Severus was brought back to Earth when he realised that the child's (Potter's, he mentally corrected himself) incessantly annoying speech was still going out.

"—and you created it at only twenty-six! It's such a great honour to meet you—"

Severus, eager to end the child's irritating rambling, had directed at her his best death glare, and it seemed to have worked miraculously well—if the apologetic look the child sent him was anything to go by.

Severus, having decided that leaving a child (even if it was one of Potters') in Knockturn Alley would be 'morally corrupt' (or at least he assumed so from the many talks Albus had with him about matters like these), that he may as well lead her to her parents—as long as it wasn't too great a detour, at least.

"Where are your parents?" Severus asked his increasingly annoying companion, hoping that she wouldn't be too stupid to respond. It seemed she was.

After an awkward silence the girl said, as though looking for confirmation, "My…parents?" Rolling the words around on her tongue as though they were foreign.

"Yes, you simpleton, your parents." Severus snapped, each mention of James and Lily Potter's relationship further darkening his mood.

"I'd imagine they're at home by now," said Desdemona—no, Potter (Severus reminded himself, shuddering at even the thought of being familiar another with a _Potter _to go by first names), as though this were a perfectly normal occurence.

"Without you?" Severus said incredulously.

"Oh, they don't care about_ me_, only their precious little saviour Charlus." Potter said, some of her bitterness leaking through.

And so, against his better judgement, Severus Snape decided to make a short detour to Hogwarts with the girl; again, against his better judgement. Not knowing that it would result in the start of a lifelong friendship.


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Two years later…

Severus, although he would never admit it, was impressed. Searching for a fault in the seemingly perfect Blood-Replenishing potion, he almost gave up until he noticed a fleck of white in the otherwise undisturbed red, and turned to bark at his student.

"What is this?" Severus demanded furiously, not caring that the eight year old girl in front of him was now immune to his angry rants, and ignoring the fact that it should've been impossible for a child of her age to brew such a complex potion.

"It's a Blood-Replenishing potion, Sevy," Desdemona Potter said calmly, ignoring the glare that came from using the, as Severus put it, 'infernal nickname'. "I thought an esteemed potions master would know that. On the other hand…standards have been falling these last few years," she finished with a smirk that any Slytherin would be proud of.

"You know full well what I mean," Severus ground out, his cheeks flushed with anger. Desdemona barely contained a smile. It was so easy to wind up Sev if you knew which buttons to push.

"It's a unicorn hair. It should increase the effects almost tenfold, if I'm correct." Desdemona said, not even bothering to hide the excitement she had when it came to her… experiments.

"Have you tested it?" Severus asked, a slightly curious tinge to his voice.

"Of course," was his only reply, and so, feeling slightly more optimistic about the potion, Severus decided to check it at a later date. After all, if it worked they would be one step closer to their goal. And if it didn't...Severus did vaguely remember that the Weasley twins had been getting quite annoying…

Wondering how on earth Desdemona had gotten hold of _unicorn hair _of all things, Severus voiced his question, only getting an infuriating, "I have my sources," and a slammed door.

Sighing at Desdemona's antics, Severus settled down at his desk to mark the pathetic attempt at papers the fifth years Hufflepuffs had handed him, some of his glee returning at the multiple Trolls he scrawled down. Still, however faint, thoughts of the girl he was helping become the youngest potions mistress in history crept through his mind for a few minutes after she left.

Eight year old Draco Malfoy, white-blonde hair carefully gelled and hands clearing imaginary wrinkles out of his expensive robes, lost his flawless façade of a pure-blooded heir as soon as he flooed through his godfather's fireplace.

"Hello," said an almost melodic voice to his left, causing Draco to start (for Malfoys don't jump in fright). Turning around, he came face to face with a girl around his age with long, curly black hair tied up in a messy bun and sparkling green eyes. Eyeing her slightly greasy (but nonetheless fine) green robes with distaste, Draco realised that she must've been making potions.

"Who are you?" Draco asked rudely, his mask back in place yet again.

"Desdemona Potter," she said in the same, slightly lilting voice.

"You're lying," Draco declared, "everyone knows that there's only three Potters." All this was said with conviction—but then again, usually everything Draco said was.

"I suppose there are," the strange girl agreed, "as I've never considered myself a Potter." Although it was said in the same, agreeable voice she had used before, Draco caught the slight _glint _(of rage, he would realise looking back on their meeting) in her eyes—one he so often saw in his father's—at the mention of the Potters, and suddenly felt rather cowed.

"I'm sorry, Potter," he said quietly, as he had, without realising it, come to believe her.

"It's fine," the girl said, "and you can use my name, you know." she said, making Draco flush as he realised how rude he must have sounded.

"My apologies Pott-Desdemona," Draco said.

As Desdemona approached the fireplace, Draco couldn't help but ask, "Where are you going?"

"Diagon Alley," Desdemona said and then, almost hesitantly, asked, "Want to come?"

After only the briefest of pauses, Draco nodded, curiosity defeating common sense, as he had not yet been allowed to explore the alley when visiting it.

That day, when the two children hurried home with ice-cream covered lips and bags full of purchases, Desdemona Potter realised that she'd found her first friend in the tall, pale and blonde form of Draco Malfoy.


	7. Chapter 5

Thanks to everybody who's reviewed!

Ina Bauer: Although I haven't planned that much for Hogwarts, Desdemona's brother is going to have mostly—if not completely—forgotten about her, so it'll be a bit of a shock at the sorting.

Chapter five

Overall, the summer had turned out like it usually did in Potter Manor. Lily and James (the titles of 'mother' and 'father' having been lost nearly three years ago) had gone to their annual parties (hosted and attended by purely _light_ wizards and witches of course); the two younger Weasleys (the older children no longer being invited due to their lack of hero worship for Charlus) had come over nearly daily; and so far four press conferences had been arranged.

In fact, the day would've been like any other, if not for the two owls that all the children in magical Britain were waiting for. The brown barn owls seemed to know this, if their puffed out chests were anything to go by, and, hands nearly trembling with trepidation, Desdemona took her letter.

Immediately, the owl that had carried it flew away, and Desdemona gazed with slight surprise at the second owl, having half-thought that her brother was a squib. Even with her control Desdemona couldn't hold back a snort as she imagined the wizarding world's reaction.

But then again, his attempts at magic should be entertaining enough. While her parents had assumed that her powerful outbursts of accidental magic (before she learnt to control her core) were Charlus's, Desdemona knew better, and so far hadn't seen her brother do anything more than create a few pitiful sparks—though looking back even that may've just been a trick of light—and perhaps cause a cup to drop off the table, though she was fairly certain that James had knocked it over.

Grabbing a piece of toast on her way out, Desdemona hurried up to the owlery, almost regretting her decision to not buy a pet before her eleventh birthday as she ran up the numerous staircases that led to the small tower. When she finally arrived, panting, she was quickly walked over to the piles of ink, quills, and parchment in the corner where she composed her reply—a hastily scrawled 'yes'—and attached it to her regular (a brown screech owl that was dotted with black specks) after telling it a firm voice to go to Hogwarts.

Pleased to have sent her reply off so quickly, Desdemona remembered that she still needed to tell Draco, and in her eagerness practically threw the poor bird carrying the news out of the window; barely remembering to tell it the letter's destination.

Laughing almost manically with happiness, Desdemona smiled at the bright sky outside that seemed to match her mood. For, after years of waiting, she was finally going to Hogwarts!

Diagon Alley was filled to the brim with Hogwarts students (new and returning) who were staring in confusion at long lists; their parents yelling directions to shops that would no doubt soon be forgotten by their children.

Luckily, having been prepared for the chaos and confusion that seemed to take hold of everyone and everything during summer in Diagon Alley, Desdemona had already withdrawn money from her trust vault and could now get on with her shopping…or at least try to—but she doubted it would be easy to with _this_ kind of crowd.

Deciding that's he may as well go to Madame Malkins before it got too busy—as the rest, apart from the wand, she could owl order anyway—she seemed to have timed her arrival perfectly, as a boy was just leaving as she entered.

"First year?" asked a cheerful, yet rather harried looking, young witch. Desdemona merely nodded her head, knowing that it would be easier on both the assistant and her skin if she stayed as still as much as possible.

Rather alarmed by the seemingly endless fabric and needles that she was forced to wear, Desdemona was relieved when the young witch serving her finally waved her wand and the storm that had surrounded her reluctantly withdrew as it was piled into two large bags.

Quickly handing over the galleons, Desdemona rushed outside, her head still spinning slightly. Winding through the tightly-packed bodies she had soon reached her next shop, all too relieved when she was able to shift the bags from her arms into her new trunk; allowing the long-lasting feather light charm to prove that it was worth the extra galleons.

Item after item was added soon after: books, a cauldron, a set of crystal phials (recommended by both Draco and Severus), a telescope, and brass scales, until—at long last—it was time to get what she'd been looking forward to the most. A pet and a wand.

For some reason she felt that her wand should be bought last, and so she entered the dimly-lit shop that specialized in pets and supplies. None of the owls caught her eye, or any of the cats; a toad was unthinkable, having been out of fashion for decades, as well as being rather useless.

Just as she was about to leave Desdemona heard a rasping voce coming from the corner. "Sssstupid humansss,"it said, "pressing their facesss up againssst the glassss all day." Strangely enough, when Desdemona turned around, the shopkeeper seemed oblivious.

Soon, Desdemona had a clear view of who was speaking, and she barely stifled a gasp of surprise. A lithe, emerald green snake of a medium size lay within a tank of grimy water, its coal eyes boring into hers and, when it opened its mouth as though to yawn, she caught a glimpse of long, shining fangs and a forked black tongue.

"Hello?" Desdemona asked hesitantly.

The snake, instantly alert at her voice, stared at her with something akin to wonder.

"A sssspeaker," the snake said. "It issss a great honour to meet one."

"T-thank you?" Desdemona replied, confused.

"I sssee you do not know what language we sssspeak, child," the snake said in what she guessed to be an amused tone.

Just as she was about to reply that they were speaking English, of course, Desdemona stopped as she realised why the words had had a slightly guttural, hissed tinge.

"Are we sssspeaking…parsssletongue?" Desdemona asked.

"Correct, young one," the snake told her, its—no, her, Desdemona realised—eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"Now, if you'd jussst get me out of this…ssshop." the snake ordered a still dazed Desdemona, pronouncing the last word as tough she didn't think the business was worthy of the title.

"O-of coursssse," Desdemona said, still rather confused about the whole thing. The rest went smoothly as the shopkeeper—who for some reason seemed rather scared of her new pet—quickly got together all that Desdemona needed to look after the snake.

And so, quite a bit later than she'd hoped to, Desdemona entered Ollivanders. Standing there awkwardly for a minute or two, she was just starting to wonder if Ollivander was out when he appeared out of the shadows, causing her to jump in fright.

"Desdemona Potter," he said, his voice quiet.

"I remember giving your parents their wands quite well; they were both rather powerful. Good for charms and transfiguration respectively." Ollivander continued, though this bit was added in an even softer voice than before…And then it began. Tape measures flew around her, even measuring her nose!

"Wand hand?"Ollivander asked softly. Quickly, Desdemona shoved out her right hamd.

"Oak and dragon heartstring, rigid," Ollivander said, nearly shoving it into her hand. Feeling ridiculous, Desdemona waved it, but it was quickly pulled away. Wand after wand was presented and shelves were destroyed, walls turned pink, and she even blasted a hole in the floor!

Finally, after nearly an hour in which Ollivander had been getting more and more excited, he became sombre once again.

"I wonder," he muttered, seemingly more to himself than Desdemona.

"Holly and phoenix hair, eleven inches, supple," he said quietly.

Desdemona grasped it, and immediately started to glow with a golden light. It felt as though hole that she'd never known was there had been filled, and Desdemona was, in that moment, filled with an unadulterated joy. However, it was over all too soon, and she was brought back to reality by a small cough.

"That will be seven galleons Miss Potter," Ollivander told her and she happily handed the money over. The minute the door closed Ollivander started writing a letter to Dumbledore to tell him that the twin of Voldemort's wand had not, in fact, chosen The Boy Who Lived but instead his younger sister.


	8. Chapter 6

Chapter six

The smoke that engulfed Platform 9 and 3/4 made it impossible to tell exactly how many people were there, though the overwhelming amount of noise gave Desdemona a good idea. And, in addition to the numerous parents and students, multiple reporters stood, clumped together, by the wall that the Boy Who Lived would come through.

Sure enough, at ten fifty-five, Charlus ran through (closely followed by Lily and James), flushed an unattractive red from the short run through the wall. Despite how close Charlus came to missing the train, Desdemona was sure that it would be labelled 'fashionably late' by the reporters.

Through the slightly open window of her compartment, Desdemona could just hear the pre-prepared answers to the reporters' questions, as the Potters moved through the dense crowd. However, soon tiring of listening to her brother's obnoxious prattle, Desdemona completely shut the window and took out a potions book.

With the exception of the Trolley Lady (whom she bought nothing but a few chocolate frogs from), there were no interruptions until just after halfway through the ride, when a sharp rap on the door distracted Desdemona from her book.

"Come in," said Desdemona sharply, her annoyance evident to a well-trained ear. The door slowly opened to reveal a tall, pale girl with icy blue eyes and light blonde hair. She seemed to have already changed into her uniform, and from the aristocratic features on the girls face, Desdemona guessed that she was a pure-blood.

"May I sit here?" the girl asked in a cold, arrogant voice that said she wouldn't be here if she had a choice.

"Of course," said Desdemona, not wanting to risk offending the girl. At her words the blonde seemed to warm slightly. Desdemona waited for the girl to say something and, after a long silence, she received a simple, "Daphne Greengrass," for her efforts.

"Desdemona Potter," she said, and was relieved that, apart from a barely raised eyebrow, no other reaction was made. Again, not wanting to risk offending the girl (especially now that she knew for certain she was from an Ancient and Noble house), Desdemona held out her left hand—as was pure-blood protocol—and waited to see if Daphne would take it. And if she didn't, well, Desdemona wouldn't deliberately have done anything to cause an argument.

Slowly Daphne shook her hand, before quickly moving back to her seat. Then, Desdemona did something that would affect both girls greatly in the years to come. Remembering the small pile of chocolate on the table Desdemona asked hesitantly (as she'd always treasured her chocolate), "Chocolate frog?"

Daphne's head shot up in shock as she stared, almost reverently, at the wrapped sweets, before eagerly nodding and taking one. For, despite their many differences, one thing Daphne Greengrass and Desdemona Potter would always share was a love of chocolate.

A few hours later saw both girls completely warmed up to each other and—once they'd stated conversations—winded from laughter. Both intelligent with next-to-no _real_ friends (Daphne having been forced to hang around with the likes of Pancy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode during various functions and events) they found it easy to get along with one another and Desdemona was overjoyed to find that Daphne—while being mediocre at best with the practical side of it—understood the basic theory of potions perfectly, and they both enjoyed the debate that followed.

Knowing that Sev would be more than willing to let them use a spare potions lab, Desdemona quickly promised to show her new friend some shortcuts that could make brewing potions far easier and—in Desdemona's opinion—fun.

All too soon for the girls the train pulled up at the station, and both neatly made their way through the older years to the large, bearded man who was shouting for the "Firs' years!". Sharing nervous looks the pair followed his instructions to board one of the less-than-stable looking boats, both mentally sighing in relief when it easily held their weight.

Soon, the rest of their year had arrived, and they were joined by a bushy-haired girl who (from her red eyes) Desdemona guessed had been crying. Surprisingly, no one talked, as though they all subconsciously knew not to but, when Hogwarts finally came into view, all of the first years let out gasps as they looked at the beautiful castle.

However, while Desdemona did admit that Hogwarts cut a striking image, she was one of the few who knew that it was more than just the sight of it that caused the reactions. For, once they were close enough to it, Howarts' very magic had reached out, accepting them, and giving them, above all, something that they would treasure for the rest of their life, no matter what happened or who they became. A home.

(AN: Sorry it took me so long to update, but I've just gone back to school this week and haven't had much spare time. I promise that I'll update again tomorrow and I hope that you liked the chapter!)


	9. Chapter 7

Chapter seven

Once all the students had safely gotten out of the boats Hagrid—who'd had a boat to himself due to his size—reached out one, large hand and knocked on the wooden doors that towered over even him. For a minute or two they all simply stood there awkwardly—a few of the students beginning to chat to one another again—when doors were opened by an elderly woman with a wide-brimmed hat.

Immediately silence fell, and the first years were quick to follow her inside; not wanting to risk bringing about the stern-looking woman's ire. They walked along a short corridor and then up a wide set of stairs before the person leading them stopped suddenly.

Turning around she said in a serious tone, "Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few minutes you will walk through those doors and join your classmates, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule-breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the house cup." Desdemona was one of the few to note the slight inflection in the teacher's voice as she said Slytherin—a former Gryffindor, then.

Just as the short speech was finished, shrieks could be heard. When Desdemona looked up to see what had caused the reaction, she barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Twenty ghosts had streamed in through the wall and seemed to be in the middle of a heated debate.

Desdemona—instead of eavesdropping—decided to speak with Daphne again. "Do you know how we're sorted?" she asked curiously, as it hadn't been mentioned in any of the books she'd read beforehand.

"I think its tradition not to tell," said Daphne, the annoyed look on her face showing exactly what she thought of _that_ tradition.

"Well it can't be very hard," Desdemona said confidently and, at Daphne's inquisitive look, elaborated. "After all, most of us won't have learnt any spells before coming here, and it would be unfair on muggle-borns if it was a test based on magical knowledge, as they've only known about the magical world for a few months."

Daphne nodded in agreement, then said, "Maybe some sort of spell is cast on us—to determine our main traits, I mean,"

Desdemona thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head. "If the spell was cast incorrectly and something happened to us our parents would be furious. And can you imagine the amount of energy it would take to cast the same spell over and over again on us."

Knowing what Daphne was about to say Desdemona quickly cut in. "Dumbledore would be able to, I know, but what about the headmasters and headmistresses before him? I doubt all of them would be able to."

Acknowledging her point, Daphne was silent for a moment before saying hesitantly, "You don't think it's some sort of potion, do you?"

Desdemona thought over the question before replying, "As with the idea of a spell, if a potion was brewed incorrectly it could have disastrous effects. Also, it would've been used since the time of the founders, and some ingredients that might've been common then could be rare, expensive, or even extinct, and to get hold of the necessary amount would be impossible."

"Perhaps an object then…" Desdemona murmured more to herself than Daphne.

"I suppose it is the most likely explanation. And if it was made, or had a spell placed on it, by the founders there would be no issues with it fading over time, and I imagine the headmasters and headmistresses would've been careful to maintain the spells placed on it, even if it wasn't necessary." Said Daphne thoughtfully.

Both girls shared pleased looks at having figured out, at least partly, what their sorting would entail. However, when they heard a red-headed boy (Ron Weasley, Desdemona remembered, one of her brother's many fans) loudly proclaiming that they would have to face a troll, their expressions changed into a mixture of amusement and exasperation at his stupidity.

Finally, after waiting for a few more, nerve-wracking minutes, they were herded into the hall, and the eyes of all the older students fell on them. Most of the first-years blushed and looked at the ground (as though hoping a hole would miraculously appear and swallow them), but a few (such as Draco and Charlus) preened under the attention.

The professor who'd led them from the boats was now standing by a small stool with a tatty, aged brown hat on it. Just as Desdemona began to wonder whether this was a joke, eyes and a mouth became visible on the hat—much to the shock of those being sorted—and it started to sing.

(From Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K Rowling0

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head,_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry,_

_Set Gryffindor's apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_Where you'll meet your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means,_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a thinking cap1_

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K Rowling)

The hall burst into applause and the hat bowed to each of the houses before becoming still again. The teacher stepped forward with a long roll of parchment and began calling names,

"Abbot, Hannah!" A blonde girl with her hair in pigtails came forward and after a moment the hat shouted—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" and the table on the right cheered and whooped.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan quickly took the hat off and sat next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; some of the older students shaking hands with the nervous-looking boy.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy," also went to Ravenclaw, while "Brown, Lavender!" became the first Gryffindor, and the table on the left exploded into cheers.

"Bullstrode, Millicent!" then became a Slytherin, and joined the table that were politely clapping.

"Finch-Fletcley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

After a short wait "Finnigan, Seamus!" became a Gryffindor and then "Granger, Hermione!" (The tearful girl who Desdemona and Daphne had shared a boat with) was called, and quickly went into Ravenclaw.

"Greengrass, Daphne!" was called, and Desdemona beamed and clapped for her new friend when she was sorted into Slytherin.

"Longbottom, Neville!" after a long wait was declared a Gryffindor, and walked off with the hat still on, before realizing his predicament and returning it, blushing, amidst gales of laughter.

"Malfoy, Draco!" was soon called, and Desdemona grinned at her friend when he was put in Slytherin almost immediately.

Now, there weren't many children left. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls "Padma" and "Patil" and finally (what most in the hall had been waiting for if their eager expressions were anything to go by)—"Potter, Charlus!"

Desdemona nearly rolled her eyes as whispers broke out through the hall and many students even stood up to get a better look. Charlus seemed to soak up the attention like a sponge, a smirk spreading across his rounded cheeks, which—though Desdemona couldn't see the appeal whatsoever—caused several girls to swoon.

Almost immediately the hat shouted "Gryffindor!" and the table broke into deafening cheers and applause that didn't stop for several minutes. It seemed a place had already been reserved if the shouts of the Weasley twins were anything to go by and Desdemona imagined the reactions if her brother was a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin, allowing a wide grin to stretch across her face.

Then "Potter, Desdemona!" was called and though whispers broke out like wildfire, most students simply assumed that she was a muggle-born (Potter could be a common name in the muggle world after all) or a distant relation that had long since branched off from the main Potter line, and the noise quickly died down.

Desdemona walked up to the stool, head held high and movements graceful, before easily slipping on the proffered hat.

"Oh, oh my," said the hat, sounding quite delighted.

"I haven't seen a mind like yours in many years, but definitely not a Ravenclaw. Very hard-working, but not totally loyal to anyone yet, and, though brave, not rash enough to go into anything without a plan. We both know where you're meant for."

An image of a silver and green crest came into Desdemona's mind, and she nodded. "SLYTHERIN!" shrieked the hat, and Desdemona happily took off the hat before sitting down next to Daphne.

Desdemona paid little attention to the rest of the sorting, barely remembering to make note of the different houses those in her year had been sorted into, and only just listening to Dumbledore's opening speech—which was better than some of her peers, who completely ignored the elderly head-master.

Though they all ate the feast politely with perfect table manners, the new Slytherins were too tired to make small talk, and chose instead to remain quiet and avoid looking at the Gryffindor table, where most of the males seemed intent on shovelling down the ridiculously large portions on their plates as though it were the last food on earth. Finally, however, they were spared when the last of the food disappeared, and the Gryffindors were left gazing mournfully at their now empty plates.

For the second time that night Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K Rowling)

"Ahern—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give to you.

First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term.

Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.

And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Desdemona noticed that the other teacher's smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a particularly troublesome fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" and the school bellowed:

Hogwats, Hogwats, Hoggy Warty hogwats,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling,

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.

(Harry potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K Rowling)

Though Desdemona—along with the rest of the Slytherins—didn't sing, she enjoyed listening to some of the pleasanter tunes, though they were far outnumbered by the bad ones, and Desdemona was glad when it was finally over.

Her ears still ringing, she quickly got up and, along with Daphne, walked towards their house's prefects—who were calling for first years—and waited for the rest of the first-year Slytherins to catch up.

Once they were all there, they were led down identical stone corridors—the air getting colder as they went—for what seemed like an hour—although it could've only been ten minutes—until at last the prefects stopped in front of a seemingly blank stone wall.

Both prefects turned around—though it was the male who addressed them. "The current password is 'Threstral' and, when changed, the new password will be pinned to the notice-board. This will not be shared with anyone outside of our house and if it is you will be punished severely."

Halfway throughout the speech—when the password was said—a door had appeared on the previously empty wall and it was now opened, revealing the common room to the first years, who barely stifles gasps of amazement.

A large fire-place was carved into the middle of the far wall and a tapestry depicting the Slytherin crest hung above the green flames. Two thin staircases made of black marble spiralled upwards on either side of it and the floor was made up of polished black wood. A dark coffee table rested in front of the fire and was surrounded by carefully positioned sofas and armchairs made of dark green leather. Portraits of famous Slytherins dotted the walls and shelves lay below them, filled with books. Aa chandelier made of emeralds that gleamed with a dark light hung from the ceiling and the walls were painted in shades of dark brown.

The prefects stopped again, and this time the female spoke. "Boys dormitories are to the left and girls to the right. You will have your own room, but it will be up to you decorate further than the basics. All Slytherins are expected to be up and at breakfast by seven thirty at latest and it is up to you what you do from then until your classes. Older years will help you find your classes for the first day but after that you're on your own. Our head of house, Professor Snape, will have a talk with you at seven o' clock tomorrow and be sure to be on time. Goodnight." And with that they went to bed.

Just before she fell asleep, Desdemona couldn't help but smile. She was in Slytherin, had friends, and classes would start tomorrow. Life was good…unfortunately it wouldn't remain that way.


End file.
